


8 Years Untitled

by Productive_Writings



Series: Untitled: the fanfic, circa 2012 [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 90 percent of the Order of the Sword are assholes, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Devil Trigger, F/M, Gen, Nero breaks up with Kyrie, No other Nero pairing, Slow To Update, Written post-DMC4 before DMC5 was released, and spends the rest of the fic being sad about it, light smut in chapter 2 if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Productive_Writings/pseuds/Productive_Writings
Summary: Anyone who follows my blog will already know what’s going on with this fic.As a brief recap, this is a fanfiction that I worked on many, many moons ago as a substitute for an actual Devil May Cry 4 sequel that has since been left unfinished and unread for the past 8 years, though I intend to get round to it some day.Obviously canon-divergent now, since they've actually released a fifth game.
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Kyrie & Nero (Devil May Cry), Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Series: Untitled: the fanfic, circa 2012 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665586
Kudos: 12





	1. The one where nothing happens, but we might as well start at the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where nothing happens, but we might as well start at the beginning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter 1 serves mostly as a preface to what’s to come, so not much is really happening so far, but it should at least let you get an idea of the writing style._
> 
> _I started naming the chapters humorous and/or self-deprecating things over on tumblr, so I'm gonna stick with that._

“Nero, behind you!” 

The silver-haired male turned, quickly grabbing the charging Assault demon by its shielded arm and hurling it into the approaching Scarecrow hoard. The others with him, all that remained of Fortuna’s Holy Knights, took their formation beside him and raised their weapons ready for the incoming attack. Nero counted twelve demons, including the now dazed Assault that had first alerted them – that meant that his small group was outnumbered by a demon hoard almost twice their size, but Nero was prepared to take them all on if necessary. 

Nero’s men charged, bridging the gap between them and the demons, each aiding the other in blocking and stabbing at the numerous Scarecrows while Nero himself concentrated his attention on the Assault, the more lethal of the two species and the one hardest to kill. Everything flowed smoothly, the Assault falling and Nero aiding the others in battling the Scarecrows, but as they fell more and more seemed to appear to take their place, soon allowing the demons to outnumber them again. 

After what felt like hours of fighting the seemingly endless stream of Scarecrows, only a handful remained. It was then that an unnoticed cluster of nearby eggs began to hatch, releasing a set of Chimera Seeds into the Mitis Forest. The seeds quickly followed their instincts and latched onto the three remaining Scarecrows, fusing with them to form Chimeras that slashed at the group with their sharp vines. 

The former Knights fell back, regrouping to take on the - now much more vicious -demons together in groups of three, leaving the last to Nero, knowing that he could handle it himself. As the others fought and the demons fell, the Chimera facing Nero lashed out with all of its vines, striking him hard. Nero snarled at the demon, pulling it towards him with his demonic arm and repeatedly hurling it into the hard, earthy ground until there was nothing left. The others stood watching, half scared and half amazed. 

When Nero seemed to have calmed down a little, one of the men, Armanno, came to his side. “Think that’s the last of them?” 

Nero turned to him, tearing his eyes away from the spot where the demon had disintegrated. “Yeah.” He noticed the look on his friend’s face, part confusion and part fear; “What is it?” 

“Nothing, your eyes were just… never mind. Probably just a trick of the light.” 

The men sheathed their weapons and began the long trek back to Fortuna City, returning to their new based of operations, under the pale neon lights of Devil May Cry. 

–

Devil May Cry, the building for which had once served as a small bed and breakfast for curious Occult tourists in Fortuna fascinated by the idea of a religion founded upon Demon worship, now acted as the base of both Nero and his partner Kyrie’s operations: his to rebuild and protect the city from the remaining demons, and hers to provide food and shelter for all those who were affected by the events now almost two years prior. Although it was a name that neither of them would have chosen, a friend from the mainland had sent the neon sign to Nero shortly after the city’s destruction, and Devil May Cry soon became a place that the citizens of Fortuna were familiar with, so the name stuck. 

The smell of freshly cooked stew greeted the soldiers as they entered the doors, reminding them all of how long they had spent patrolling the forest and how hungry they now were. Kyrie, her auburn hair swept back in its usual ponytail, appeared from the kitchen, beckoning the men in to eat. As Nero passed her, he turned and kissed her on the cheek, a thank you for preparing a meal for them as well as the less fortunate residents of the city, and a promise that everything had gone well on patrol, which he would tell her about later. She smiled at him and took his human hand (not because she was afraid of his other arm, but because it was his left side that she was standing on), walking with him into the kitchen to sit with the others. 

As they ate, the men laughed and retold how the mission had played out, Kyrie listened intently, smiling as they each recounted their own heroic versions of the story. This was how it had always been, ever since Nero and Kyrie had used the money that they had inherited after Credo’s untimely death to begin their work helping the city to find its feet again. Since then, Nero had set to work defending the city with the help of the few remaining, uncorrupted, members of the Order, and the group had formed a tight circle of friendship. Even with their being only six others working with him, Nero had more friends now than he had ever done in the Order itself, which felt both strange and comforting to him at the same time. Conversation continued, much as it usually did, until a new subject broke through from the storytelling: 

“Nero went completely insane on one of the demons we were fighting.” 

“Yeah, it was pretty brutal” 

“Good thing you’re on our side, right Nero?” 

Nero looked up from his plate to see everyone staring at him now, all with a look of worry, no matter how slight or how well hidden it was. The worst was Kyrie. The look on her face that reminded him of the first time she had ever learned of his Demonic heritage, and the way that her hand reached out to grab his in a silent plea to know that everything was okay caused a lump to form in his throat. He forced himself to look away from her, smiling at the others and making jokes about what had happened, trying to act as though this type of thing happened all the time. 

It didn’t. Nero might have a temper, but he had always seen demon slaying as nothing more than a job. He knew it, Kyrie knew it, and the thought of why he should have been set off by such a straight forward encounter scared them both more than anything. 

Maybe he was becoming more of a demon after all.


	2. The one where I start trying to create a rift between Nero and everyone in Fortuna so that I can force him to leave later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where I start trying to create a rift between Nero and everyone in Fortuna so that I can force him to leave later_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here we are at the second chapter, in which I indulge in the first of the fanfiction’s three purposes - giving Nero the full demon form he didn’t get in the fourth game._

Soon the plates were cleared and everyone departed for the night. Nero and Kyrie’s journey was silent, and full of the promise of worried questions when they returned home. Once the door was firmly closed, Kyrie was the first to speak. “Did you really lose control?”

Nero studied his partner’s face, seeing the fear evident on her features. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It was a long day, I just wanted to get things over and done with as soon as possible.”

As much as he hated lying to Kyrie, Nero supposed that what he said hadn’t technically been a lie. There had been a lot of demons to fight, far more than they had expected, and he had wanted for the battle to be over and done with. Of course, he left out the part where he didn’t actually remember fighting that final Chimera, or the way Armanno had been looking at him when he asked if it was time to leave. He didn’t want to worry Kyrie like that – that didn’t mean that he had lied to her though, right? 

Kyrie sighed, accepting Nero’s answer until he felt comfortable enough to tell her the full story. As much as she wanted to know that he was okay, she didn’t want to push him into saying so, so she simply nodded and made her way to the bedroom. Nero followed shortly after, each of them changing out of their clothes and slipping into bed together. 

When Nero didn’t wrap his arms around Kyrie as he usually would have, she did it for him, settling with her head on his chest and his demonic right hand at her waist. The two lay together for a while in silence, both too involved in their thoughts to let sleep take hold of them. 

“I love you,” Kyrie whispered, hoping to coax Nero into talking about his mission, “you know that, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” 

Nero kissed the top of his partner’s head and returned to laying in the dark, willing himself to sleep. He didn’t feel like talking about this just yet, no need to cause panic over one slip up. He was fine. Tomorrow, he would go and patrol with the others, and he would help them to fight whatever demons happened to appear, and he would remember doing it. There was nothing wrong with him. 

— 

_Kyrie’s small form writhed beneath him as the sharp claws of his right hand sank into her soft flesh. He revelled in the feeling of her blood coating his fingertips, in the bittersweet smell of it filling the air. Kyrie clutched onto his arm, screaming for him to stop, but it only spurred him on further, drew his claws in deeper. Tearing at the skin of his lover’s naked body, her cries turned to whining pleas and pained whimpers before dulling down into silence._

Nero awoke to an empty bed and panicked, thinking maybe that it hadn’t been a dream after all. But there were no bloodstains on the bed sheets, and a note had been laid on the side table in Kyrie’s neatly curved handwriting. He sighed, laying back down and trying to process what had just happened. 

Nero would be lying if he said he never dreamed about himself and Kyrie together, but it had never ended like this before, not with him hurting - possibly even killing - her. He was suddenly thankful for the fact that Kyrie had left so early to prepare breakfast at DMC, as she so often did on the mornings that Nero slept in; his hand reached out for her customary note telling him that she loved him, that she would see him later after he had finished patrolling, and that she had left food for him in the microwave, and he lay there for a good while simply holding the folded piece of paper against his chest. 

Taking a cold shower and getting ready to join the others for their latest journey to Mitis Forest, Nero silently hoped that today would still be promising, but he was becoming more and more doubtful of the state of his humanity. Perhaps something was wrong with him after all.

—

More than half way into the day and the forest still appeared to be empty, which was good news for everyone since it meant that the number of demons in the area was definitely decreasing. It was better news still for Nero, who hadn’t had to worry all day about what might happen the next time he blacked out during combat.

This was the calm before the storm, Nero realised, when the group stumbled into a demon nest. Not just any demon, but a nest of Mephistos and Fausts, putting Nero at the heart of the battle as swords were almost completely useless against these demons as long as they remained behind their dark cloaks.

The part-demon devil hunter set to work, shooting the demons with his revolver and grabbing them from the black mist with his Bringer, exposing the vulnerable, insect-like bodies for the others to attack. Soon enough, the worries that had plagued him throughout the day faded as he tore his was through the mass of demons, adrenaline driving him forward as Nero began not only to reveal the demons for the others in his group to defeat, but to destroy them himself, slamming them into the rocks and trees littering the forest around them.

Nero was caught in the thrill of the battle, and it wasn’t long before he was lost completely. The blue glow of Nero’s demon arm seemed to grow blinding, and without truly realising it, he Triggered.

For the others in the group, it was not the usual translucent, ghostly demon figure that they had grown accustom to after the few various times that Nero had used it over the past 18 months. This was a true, fully-fledged demonic form. This Demon-Nero seemed oblivious to the rest of the group, intent only on destroying the nest. He didn’t speak, only growled and snarled at the other demons, throwing their helpless, broken bodies in all directions regardless of where the men were standing.

The fight was drawing to a close, and the few demons that had thus far escaped Nero’s grasp had begun to close in on the other hunters. Nero charged at them, lashing out indiscriminately, and the men that he had been fighting alongside fled in fear of him. A couple of the men, either too slow to escape or simply hopeful that Nero would still be enough Himself to know that they weren’t the ones he was fighting, were caught in the crossfire and flung like rag dolls into the trees.

It wasn’t until the battle was won that the Demon-Nero sank to his knees, clutching at his head with both clawed hands and, screaming, returned to his human self.

Slowly returning to his feet, Nero looked around the empty nest. “What happened?”

Standing bewildered where they had been helping up their injured comrades, the others slowly, reluctantly returned to Nero’s side, explaining to him about how he had gone on a Triggered rampage. “… It’s just lucky none of us were seriously hurt. You scared us, Nero, you could have killed someone.”

_You could have killed someone._

Nero didn’t talk to the others for the rest of the night, too deep in thought about what could be happening to him, and what he could do to stop it. Not even Kyrie could gain his attention, and he purposely tried to avoid all contact with her.

Every time Nero looked at Kyrie, he saw a vision of himself carving into her flesh with the claws of his Bringer, saw the fear and pain shimmering in her eyes.

He slept on the sofa that night.


	3. The one where I start making excuses to get Dante involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where I start making excuses to get Dante involved_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is actually the last chapter of the story that was completely finished in my old Word document, so I will be writing as we go from mid-way through the fourth entry._

The next morning, Nero called the others to Devil May Cry to tell them that he wouldn’t be patrolling with them for a while, and that he would go separately from them to kill any demons that they didn’t think they could deal with alone. 

After that, Nero didn’t fight often, but almost every time he did he felt the surge of power as he Triggered, waking up later to find himself stained in (thankfully demon) blood in some deeper part of the forest. 

It wasn’t long until rumors started to spread about what had happened the last time the entire group had patrolled together; about how some members had been mysteriously injured and how Nero no longer seemed to be working with them. Nero began to hate walking through the city; having the people he had finally begun to gain the trust of once again staring at him with a mixture of fear and loathing, or ignoring him altogether. He began to hate himself, and what he was becoming. And he began to hate the people of Fortuna for turning against him, after all he had done for them. 

“... see, this is why I never joined Nero’s fake little Knights campaign,” he overheard someone saying. He recognised the man as being one of the other Holy Knights not to have joined the Ascension program; even after everything that had happened to his comrades, it didn’t make him any less doubtful of how ‘perfect’ the Order’s leader, Sanctus, had been. “Nero is a demon, we all know that, and it’s his fault that His Holiness was killed. Him and that man in the red coat.” 

Nero clenched his fists in annoyance but said nothing to let the ex-Knight know that he had heard him. He was being a little too loud to not want to be heard; it was better not to say anything, not to give him any more fuel to his allegations. It wasn’t like it was the first time Nero had had Order members talking about him behind his back, anyway. Almost his entire career with them had been filled on it, since he wasn’t much of a believer in the Faith. Kyrie, who was walking beside him and noticed how tense Nero was acting, lightly threaded her fingers into his in reassurance, but it wasn’t the words that were getting to him.

Nero had started to notice the looks he was getting from the passers by, the devout followers of the Order’s teachings who had always hidden their animosity towards Nero behind plastic smiles. They wouldn’t dare say anything about him publicly, too worried that any backlash against their opinion might affect their social standing, but they didn’t have to; it was all in their eyes, and Nero knew exactly what it was that none of them dared to say: _“You aren’t one of us. The matron of the orphanage should have just left you out on the doorstep.”_

Nero reflexively squeezed Kyrie’s hand, abruptly letting go again when he realised he was using the hand that had claws.

He needed an excuse to leave. His eyes stung, and the Bringer felt as though it was burning. He felt as though he wanted, no, _needed_ to hit something, but as long as there were people around him, he knew that he couldn’t. As if in answer, a column of lightning appeared over the roof tops, despite the clear skies - a sure sign of a Blitz, somewhere in the direction of the Ferrum Hills. It was a welcome distraction, and one that would get him away from the rest of the townspeople, seeing as the old mining village was still yet to be rebuilt.

Nero gave Kyrie an apologetic look for cutting their day short, trying to act as if he hadn’t been willing for something like this to happen, and immediately made a break for the direction of the demonic electrical storm, all but running out of the crowded market. 

The last thing Nero remembered was the crunching of the dry earth beneath his boots as he entered the mines.

— 

Nero awoke to the sound of footsteps and a panicked voice calling his name. Sitting up groggily, he realised that he had somehow made it inside Fortuna Castle. Kyrie was at his side in moments, wrapping her arms around him tightly and asking if he was okay, and Armanno joined her shortly after, though with less hugging. 

“When you didn’t come back, we thought you’d run into more trouble than just some lone Blitz and came looking,” Armanno explained, “Kyrie practically begged me to bring her along. The others are still back at the mines making sure you weren’t caught up in a cave-in.” He looked around the castle foyer. “Looks like you must have been fighting _something_ in here, the place is a wreck.” 

“I guess so,” Nero replied, rising to his feet with Kyrie still clinging to him. Armanno just nodded, silently understanding that Nero must have had another episode. “I’ll go and tell the others you’re okay,” he said, “we’ll meet you back at DMC.” 

While Armanno hurried to reunite with the rest of the group before they wasted any more time hauling rubble, Nero and Kyrie hung back, taking their time back through the mountains towards the city. Although she wasn’t hugging him anymore, Kyrie held a firm grip on Nero’s arm as she walked, almost as if she was afraid he might disappear if she let go. “Why were you so worried?” Nero asked her, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never fought a demon by myself before, right?” Kyrie smiled at her partner, only now letting go of his arm to simply take his hand. “I know,” she replied, her smile falling as she continued. “But you left so suddenly, and when you didn’t come back I was scared that something might have happened to you… we all were.” 

“Why, how long was I gone for?” Nero looked up at the sky. It couldn’t have been too long since he left the city, could it? It wasn’t even dark yet.

Kyrie stopped walking, bringing Nero to an abrupt halt next to her and drawing his attention back away from the clouds. “Nero, you were gone for almost two days.” 

— 

That night, Nero lay awake, consumed by his thoughts. Two days, almost 48 hours that he had no memory of. Did this mean that whatever was happening to him was getting worse? What if he continued to lose more and more time, if he disappeared for weeks on a demon rampage? And what if, one day, he never came back at all? The more Nero thought about it, the more he realised just how much danger he had put everyone in – put Kyrie in – by doing nothing, by hoping that everything would settle by itself. 

Moving quietly through the house so as not to wake Kyrie, Nero entered the kitchen in search of what might possibly be the only solution to his situation. Pinned to the board on the kitchen wall, underneath the photographs of summer days at the beach and distant memories of Kyrie’s lost family, was a small scrap of brown paper; the return address that had been written on the sign Nero received, and scrawled below it, a phone number. 

Pulling the paper down from its place, Nero carried it to the phone to call the only person he could think of who might be able to help.


	4. The one where things actually start happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where things actually start happening_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Considering that this is the first of the chapters that I’ve actually had to continue myself, it’s also the one that reminded me just why it still isn't finished. Coming up with plot points is easy for me - putting them into coherently joined, flowing, and interesting to read sentences is hard._
> 
> _This is the first chapter to involve Dante as well, and to be honest I think it’s the shift in POV that originally killed off my Motivation™ to write in the first place._

The phone rang. Emerging from the small bathroom at the back of the shop, Dante was less than impressed with whoever it was that had just cut his shower short. It was late, Dante had just returned home from his latest demon hunting expedition, and the shower had hot running water for once. All he wanted to do was to finish washing out whatever crap it was that was still stuck in his hair and then sleep until either Trish told him that someone had called with a decent job, or Lady broke down the door and physically _dragged_ him off of his desk chair, whichever came first (which, knowing his luck, would probably be Lady). 

After a short time glaring at the phone as if doing so would stop it from ringing, Dante crossed the small gap between the bathroom door and his desk, slamming his fist down on the wood and catching the receiver as it leaped from its place. 

“Devil May Cry. Sorry, but we only take calls between 9am and 9pm, so you’re either really late, or really, _really_ early. Call back when we’re open.” 

He was just pulling the phone away from his ear, ready to set it back down (and pull out the cable until morning in case whoever it was called back) when the reply came. “What, so I don’t even get made an exception? Thanks, I’ll remember that the next time _you_ call.” 

Dante brought the phone back to his ear. At least the caller was a voice he recognised. “Hey, kid, long time no see.” He sat down, tilting his chair onto its hind legs. “Judging by the time, I’m gonna take a guess and say that this isn’t a social call.” 

“It isn’t… I need your help--” 

“Well, as fun as that sounds my first priority right now is ‘sleep’. Whatever this thing is you need help for, I’m sure that arm of yours can hold it back for a few extra hours.” 

Nero seemed to growl in response, the words that followed being laced with a dark undertone as he told the older hunter to _**shut up and listen**_. Even Nero himself seemed to be shocked at the way his voice had sounded, judging by how the line went silent for a while afterwards. “Just get here soon” was the eventual reply, with Nero quickly hanging up the phone afterwards to avoid any further questions. 

Setting the receiver back in its cradle, Dante returned to the bathroom to wash what he could out of his hair and retrieve his clothes. Sleeping would have to wait until he got on board the ferry. 

— 

Nero was restless. He had hoped that phoning Dante would help to put his mind at ease, that the other man could give him some kind of solution. Instead he was just left feeling agitated – but then, what else did he expect? It was Dante. Nero hoped he at least had the sense to leave his office as quickly as possible and head to Fortuna, but he had no guarantee that that was the older devil hunter’s intentions.

Not wanting to be stuck waiting at home, Nero decided to go out. He didn’t know exactly how long it would take for Dante to reach the island, but he was sure that it would be a few hours at least. Thinking about it, Nero didn’t actually know how long it would take Dante to arrive, even if he _did_ leave straight away - he had an address for the mainland, sure, but no way of actually knowing whereabouts on the mainland that was. It could take all night, maybe even all day tomorrow, for the other man to show up, and Nero sure as hell didn’t feel like sitting patiently until the doorbell rang. 

Getting dressed and leaving a note to Kyrie in case she woke up while he was gone, Nero headed out into the cold night air. He didn’t know where he was going, he just felt like walking somewhere, just to pass the time. Before long, Nero found himself high in the mountains, the bridge to Fortuna Castle ahead of him. Realising where his feet were carrying him, Nero considered turning back and returning to the port rather than passing the waterfall to Mitis Forest, where he was sure a hoard of demons would be waiting. But what would he do there - just sit at the dock and wait? Nero knew he wasn’t patient enough to do that; maybe burning off some steam in the forest was the better option... No. No, he couldn’t just give in to that side of him. It was more trouble than it was worth.

Turning back to the snowy mountain range, Nero found that it was too late to avoid any conflict. Four towering diamond-shaped ice pillars stood in front of him, each one housing a Frost demon, waiting to pounce. Removing Red Queen from his back and revving up her exceed system, Nero charged forward into a battle he knew would be unavoidable, fully aware of the effect that it would have on his demon side. 

He just hoped Dante would make it to the island soon. 

— 

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when the ferry reached Port Caerula.

Dante yawned and stretched, having managed to at least catch up on a little rest during the long journey. Nero hadn’t escaped his mind, though. What could be so important that he would suddenly call up out of the blue? Dante had already worked out that the kid was _stubbornly_ independent, so a call for help could be a cause for concern. The biggest issue now, though, was working out how to find him.

Dante had no idea whereabouts on the island Nero lived or worked. When he had addressed the neon light he had sent out, Dante had simply labeled it for ‘Nero, Fortuna Island’ in the good faith that he had enough of a local reputation that the parcel would reach him - and it must have done, because how else did Nero get the number to his shop? And with that in mind, Dante eliminated the idea of asking the locals for directions; chances were they wouldn’t be too forthcoming with ‘the man who shot His Holiness’ anyway, even after everything that had happened. No, Dante’s bets bet of finding Nero was to find the sign he’d sent him.

It wasn’t long before the blue neon glow caught his eye and Dante entered, scanning the room. The interior couldn’t have been more different than his office back home - rows of people seated at long tables, and the smell of cooked breakfast permeating the air. A quick glance told Dante that they were here for the food more than for any kind of fight, and not a single one of them had white hair. Nero clearly wasn’t here, so where was he?

The devil hunter spotted a face he recognised, and made a bee-line for the young woman serving out breakfast. ‘Kyrie’, he remembered her name was - how could he forget with the number of times Nero had said it the last time Dante had been in town? She seemed surprised to see him approach her, which could only mean that Nero hadn’t mentioned their phone conversation. Strange. “Hey, Kyrie, right? Any idea where I can find that boyfriend of yours?”

She set her spatula down on the counter. “Could we... talk somewhere a bit more private? Please?” she asked, gesturing to what Dante assumed must be the kitchen; he nodded and followed her. No sooner had the door closed behind them that Kyrie dropped her calm facade and started to tear up in worry. “I don’t know where Nero is. He just left a note to say he was going out this morning, and I haven’t heard from him since. Something’s wrong with him, and he’s been disappearing more and more often. I-” she stopped herself before her emotions got the better of her. 

Dante placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly “It’s fine, I’ll find him. Any idea where he’s been ‘disappearing’ to?”

After taking a moment to compose herself, Kyrie responded “The last time Nero went missing we found him in Fortuna Castle. Please, help him.”

He gave her a nod. “That’s what I do.”

— 

As the entrance to the castle drew nearer, Dante couldn’t help but wonder exactly what kind of trouble Nero had gotten himself into since they last met; the way he was apparently just up and leaving without even telling his girlfriend seemed... uncharacteristic, to say the least.

The stench of demon blood hit him the moment Dante opened the door; wafting it away with his hand, he entered the grand hall. The smell meant there had been some kind of fight here recently, and he was willing to bet (even with how badly gambling usually turned out for him) that Nero was involved. As he stood surveying the large room, Dante could feel that there was someone - or something - watching him fro the upper floor. Casting his eyes up to the balcony, the hunter saw that there was apparently one demon left alive, and that it was observing him.

It wasn’t your average demon, that was for sure. If Dante had to guess, based on its colouration and the way its scales were shaped, he could almost say the thing looked like...

“Kid?”  


The demon leaped over the railing of the balcony, and if there had been any shred of doubt in Dante’s mind as to who or what this thing really was, it was gone now; the blue glow of Nero’s Devil Bringer was unmistakable, even with the extra spikes it had grown in this form - and considering how urgent things had sounded, he didn’t exactly look in need of ‘saving’. “You drag me all the way here just to show off? Could’ve just told me over the phone, you know.”

Nero didn’t follow him up with any quip of his own, merely continuing to glare and flex his clawed fingers. Dante held his gaze, tilting his head to the side a little, questioningly. Demon-Nero growled in response, baring his fangs, and the devil hunter reached to his back for Rebellion, already anticipating the attack that followed. Clearly the kid wanted to show off how strong his new form was as well as what it looked like, or at least that’s what Dante hoped was happening. The fact that Nero wasn’t using his weapons was confusing, though, and his lack of backtalk was starting to get real old real fast.

Dante rolled to the side, dodging Nero’s spectral claws with ease and setting Rebellion on his back, switching to block the next onslaught in Royal Guard stance. One thing he had learned fighting Nero in the past was that he favoured strength over style, and that made him easy to read. It was a decent enough tactic for facing lower demons, though, and maybe some of Hell’s higher-ups if you weren’t looking to have some fun doing it; it was definitely a hard enough hit to make Dante stagger, prompting him to make a quick Trickster dash out of range of the follow-up strike before resuming his block. Nero certainly wasn’t pulling any punches. Maybe he shouldn’t either.

Dante countered Nero’s next advance with perfect timing, blasting him back across the hall with the rebounding force of his own attack. As the demon steadied himself, Dante strode towards him, cracking his knuckles, and then his neck just for the effect. “This is how you wanna play it, huh? Well kid, two can play at that game.” he announced, allowing his own body to take on its demon form. The next time Nero made a lunge for him, Dante rounded behind him and put the younger demon in a choke hold.

Nero thrashed and clawed at Dante’s arms struggling to get free, but he merely tightened his hold, the tough scaled armor that his Devil Trigger form afforded him taking the bulk of the damage; he didn’t break his hold until Nero stopped struggling, talons falling limply to his side as he finally relinquished his demon form.

Dante, too, let his demon self fade, letting go of his hold on the younger devil hunter who slumped to his knees, human left hand rubbing at his sore neck, back turned to the older man. He took a minute to catch his breath before returning to his feet and turning to look around. “Dante?” 

Was this a joke? “Yeah, well you only cut short the best shower I’ve had in weeks and called for me to come down here... or do you not remember that either?”

Nero turned away again and hissed something under his breath that distinctively sounded like the word ‘ _shit_ ’. Finding a large slab of rubble that would serve as a replacement chair in the wrecked hall, Nero sat, head hanging low to avoid meeting Dante’s expectant gaze. “I’ve been... I’ve been losing time lately.” He paused. “Every time I’ve had to face a demon, it’s just a blank space, and then I wake up and I’m either here or out in the middle of the forest.”

Dante nodded, not that Nero was looking. It definitely explained the fight they’d just had. “Well, call me crazy, but has anyone ever thought about just taking out the bridge, closing contact to the forest? It’d make things a lot simpler - why not just let the demons have it?” he offered. Nero shook his head, clenching and unclenching the talons of his Devil Bringer as he concerned himself with the glowing digits.

“We need Mitis Forest for the rebuilding efforts; the City wants to outsource as little as possible, and the forest’s our best bet for timber and quarry stone. We have to keep it open, and we have to keep the people working out there safe from attacks. Even when we’re done with the place there’s more than one way to get there, anyway. You can pass right around the edge of the Lamina from behind the residential district, that’s the way all the haul trucks go.”  


Nero balled his clawed hand into a tight fist. “I’m turning into one of _them_ , aren’t I?”

The older hunter sighed and took a seat next to him. “Not exactly... I don’t think so, anyway. But you’re not exactly acting like ‘you’ when you fight either. I know it’s not what you wanna hear, but it’s probably gonna take some time to work out what’s going wrong up here.” he tapped at his temple to punctuate the point.

“ _Great_.” Nero replied sarcastically. “This whole thing’s gonna drive me insane - if the rest of the people here don’t do it first.”  


Dante knew exactly what the kid meant. It wasn’t exactly easy living life knowing you didn’t really belong anywhere. He pursed his lips together, thinking for a moment. “Maybe I can sort something out, but we’ll have to get back to town first so I can make a phone call. And we better be quick about it too - you’re girlfriend’s worried about you.”

“Kyrie, right...”  


He sounded guilty.

Standing up from the rubble, Nero felt his gun holster for Blue Rose. Yep, she was there, but where had Red Queen ended up? He gave the grand hall a once-over, spotting his sword rammed into one of the balcony support columns, just a little lower than the height of the second floor itself. Apparently he’d used her to get a bit of a boost. Standing at the base of the structure, he hesitated for a moment before using the spectral hand of his Devil Bringer to retrieve the weapon, returning his blade to its place on his back. “Let’s just go before anything else decides to join the party.” he said dismissively, heading to the castle door without a backwards glance at Dante.

He’d let this one slide. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

— 

Nero spent the afternoon avoiding Kyrie.

It wasn’t too difficult, since she was still pretty busy with everyone at Devil May Cry. He just chose to take Dante straight back to their apartment instead, ‘so he could use the phone’, he had reasoned. Now he was sitting on his side of the bed, waiting for Dante to make whatever arrangements he was making in the other room - he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the details, said he didn’t want to start making promises if they were going to fall through. Looked like they were both making excuses.

Finally, the older devil hunter entered the room, half-knocking on the already open door to get Nero’s attention as he did. “Pack your stuff kid, we’re taking the next ferry out of here.”

He instantly looked up to meet the other’s gaze “You serious?”

“Dead serious. I’ll leave you to it, and meet you at the dock.” He turned to leave “Oh, and make sure you say goodbye to your girlfriend. I don’t know how long this is gonna take to get sorted.”  


Dante left Nero contemplating how to break the news to Kyrie. The more he tried to think about ‘how’, the less he thought he could do it. He wouldn’t be able to leave the island if he saw her face, saw how sad he knew she would be to see him go. Eventually, Nero settled for leaving a note on the bedside table. It didn’t say much, just that he had to leave with Dante in a hurry, and he’d explain more if she called the office, and sorry for not coming to tell her in person. 

He didn’t want Kyrie to panic and think he was going forever, so he didn’t bother emptying out the room of all of his stuff, just the essentials; he figured he at least knew enough about laundry to survive off of the same few outfits for a little while, he could worry about collecting anything else later on, when he knew more. He also dismantled Red Queen, setting her carefully into her Order-issued case for transport.

Slipping his favourite photo of his girlfriend into the front of his duffle bag, he switched out the lights and locked up the apartment, heading down to Port Caerula after Dante.

— 

Dante was still sat waiting for the ferry to begin boarding when Nero arrived. He set Red Queen’s case down and used it as his own seat.

Nero noticed Dante didn’t seem to have his sword with him; he did, however, have a beaten up old guitar case, so it must have been stashed away in there. Outlandish as he was, Nero couldn’t imagine the other man traveling around with a guitar just for the hell of it.

“You took your time.” Dante remarked on his arrival “How’d she take the news? Everything go okay?”  


Nero took a moment to think what he was talking about. Oh, right, Dante still thought he’d gone to speak to Kyrie, didn’t he? “I... It’s taken care of.” 

Dante gave him a curt nod in acknowledgment, and the two sat in silence for a while before Nero finally broke it. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer now, you’ll be off this rock in no time.”  


“Not the ferry.”  


“Ah...” Dante stopped, clearly not sure just how to reply. “Look, kid, I don’t even know what’s wrong yet. That’s step 1. Step 2′ll take however long it needs to take.”  


“So you have no idea then...” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“We’ll know more after we talk to Trish.” Dante offered. It was a small consolation but he had to at least try. “She knows a whole lot more about Hell than I do.”  


“Trish?”  


“Gloria.”  


“Right...”  


Nero focused his attention on his hands, putting an end to the conversation until they boarded the ferry. He wondered if he should wrap up his right arm; he had a roll of gauze and his old sling in his bag, just in case. He wondered vaguely if he wanted it hidden from everyone on the mainland, or just from himself.

He was pulled from his thought by a tap on the shoulder “Looks like they’re ready for us, come on.”

Nero stood and retrieved his belongings from the floor, carrying everything on his left side as had become a habit over the last couple of years, and headed to the boarding platform.

“Nero!”  


He froze.

Nero didn’t have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to.

_Shit._

“I’m so glad I made it before you left,” Kyrie’s hands pulled at Nero’s demon arm, prompting him to turn around. He wasn’t glad at all. Leaving was supposed to have been easy.

Dante chuckled. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to say your last goodbyes. I’ll be on board.”

Nero wished he’d told him to hurry up and dragged him along too.

“I know you have to go, Nero, I’m sure it’s for the best.” Kyrie reasoned “I just wanted a chance to see you before you go.” She leaned up, standing on tiptoe to place a delicate kiss on Nero’s lips. He didn’t reciprocate, he felt too guilty for trying to keep the whole thing a secret, as if she wouldn’t approve. He didn’t deserve someone as understanding as her. She pulled away, trying to not seem disappointed. “How long will it be until you come back?”  


Nero scratched the back of his neck with his devil bringer, considering the answer. “It... sounds like it could take a while.”

Kyrie smiled softly, threading her fingers with his claws. “It’s fine, however long it takes, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Don’t.”  


Nero pulled his hand away from her. “Don’t wait for me this time.”

“What?”  


This was it. Nero had made up his mind on what he had to do, and now this was the only way he felt like he could leave Fortuna. “I don’t know when I’ll be coming back, or if I’ll even be coming back at all. Even if I do get things fixed, I’ve never really belonged here, have I?”

“Nero--”  


He cut her off. “I want you to find someone who makes you happy.”

“But _you_ make me happy.”  


Nero’s words got stuck in his throat, and he had to turn away from her before he could continue. “Find someone else.”

He started to walk again, but stopped short of the platform. That had been too harsh. He couldn’t leave here with those being the last words between them. Nero turned back to Kyrie with a sigh; her eyes were brimming with tears. “I’ll always care about you, Kyrie. But from now on, I can only do that as your brother.”

And with that, Nero boarded the ferry. Dante was standing right there, waiting for him, as if the asshole had been watching the entire thing - and for some reason that pissed Nero off more than anything, as if it were somehow all Dante’s fault.

Nero barged past the older man, intentionally shoving him with his shoulder as he went, blood boiling for no particular reason. 

He had to do it, so why did it hurt so much?

—

Nero was up above deck, arm already bandaged up and back in the sling.

He’d planned on making the entire trip as far away from Dante as possible, but apparently the other man either hadn’t taken the hint or just didn’t care, because here he was.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Dante commented casually, leaning up against the railing.  


“What, people used to seeing guys with demon body parts over on the mainland?”  


“No, I meant you and your girlfriend.”  


Nero scowled at Dante. Had he come up here on purpose just to try and get under his skin? “That’s none of your business.”

Dante crossed his arms. “I’m just sayin’. You obviously still like her, why call it off like that?”

“Because--” Nero was cut off by the lump that formed in his throat. “Because she deserves someone who can give her a normal life, and I can’t do that. She deserves better - better than _me_.”  


Nero felt a tear escape and roll down his cheek, and he knew instantly that Dante had noticed it too - he might have been trying to be subtle, but Nero could see him following the trail of it with his eyes.

“What? You trying to come up with something funny to say about a 21-year-old man crying over his ex?” Nero all but spat out, Dante still standing there staring at him. He turned his face away, furiously rubbing the salty liquid from his face “Well don’t bother, I already know how fucking stupid this must look...”  


He saw Dante shift position out of the corner on his eye, lifting a hand to try and comfort him, he guessed. Nero turned around, stopping the other man before he could make contact with his shoulder. “I don’t need your pity.”

Dante raised both hands and took a step back from him “Fine then, I’ll give you some space kid. I’ll be back below deck if you need me.” He shot a thumb back in the direction of the door before heading over to it. Stopping just short of stepping through, Dante turned back to offer one last attempt at reassurance. “The fact that you’re crying? It’s a good sign, means you’re not a total lost cause.” He paused for a moment, just to make sure Nero was actually listening to him. “Real demons don’t do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Nero's Devil Trigger is based on the DMC4 concept art for his full demon form at the time, back when he was supposed to look like he was wearing a hood._
> 
> _Just out of interest, the last thing that was actually written in this chapter when I opened the document file was the line:_ “The sun was just peaking over the horizon when the ferry reached Port Caerula.”


	5. The one where Trish shows up to explain things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where Trish shows up to explain things_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> At long last, the fifth chapter._
> 
> _Having bullet points in front of me certainly helped make writing seem more possible, but it was still a bit of a two-month-long slog when I did eventually pick it back up. For that reason, I have decided to add the 'slow to update' tag._

Nero stayed above deck for the remainder of the journey, contemplating what Dante had told him. Real demons don't cry, huh? Then what kind of a name was ‘Devil May Cry'? He'd have to ask at some point, but right now he didn't feel like making conversation.

It was a long trip, and the ferry was mostly empty. Only a couple of people had joined Nero over the hours, and only briefly to stretch their legs or take a quick look out at the sea, and Dante certainly hadn't bothered trying to engage with him again; that suited Nero just fine. Only when he could see the ferry approaching the dock did Nero decide to descend and find the other hunter himself.

Dante had, by the looks of things, just woken up from a nap when Nero found him, stretching languidly before standing and retrieving his guitar case. The announcement was made for passengers to disembark, and Nero allowed himself to be guided out onto the unfamiliar port.

Two people were waiting for them, neither of whom Nero recognised. One was an older man with a thick moustache, and the other a woman with short black hair and a motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm. Dante threw a set of keys to the woman, telling her to drive safely before she put the helmet on and left. The man, who Dante didn't bother to do proper introductions with but was apparently called ‘Morrison', lead them to a red convertible in the parking lot.

“It's gonna be a bit of a trek back to the office, and I figured you wouldn't wanna sit through the ride on the back of a motorbike with me,” Dante explained, “so I made some arrangements while we were back in Fortuna. I had Morrison here come to be our chauffeur, and Lady's gonna get the bike back to the shop for me.”

So the woman's name was ‘Lady', huh? Weird.

“That's only if she gets paid for her services,” Morrison interjected, “otherwise she said she’s keeping it.”

“Yeah, yeah" Dante waved it off. “And I'm guessing you'll want something too, right?”

“Well that would make a nice change.” He retorted “Gas isn’t free, Dante.”

It was weird, seeing Dante in this kind of everyday situation, away from fighting demons. He was still as casual and laid back as ever, but... different, somehow; like he was less sure of himself, less in control of the situation.

Nero ignored their bickering over who owed what to whom, leaning on his sling-wrapped arm and taking in his surroundings. Graffiti-strewn dockside warehouses gave way to rows of boarded up houses and high wooded construction fences emblazoned with safety notices and trespass warnings. Nero thought Fortuna looked like it was in a better state than this place, even after all of the devastation. “A whole lot of building signs around here,” he commented, speaking for the first time in hours and immediately earning Dante’s full attention, “but I don’t see any actual construction happening. Everyone taking the day off?”

“More like the decade,” Dante joked back in response. “Nothing’s been fixed up around here in a _long_ time.”

 _‘I can see that'_ , Nero thought, but didn’t voice it, instead simply asking “How come?”

“Most people have given up trying. No point in wasting the cash to rebuild if it’s just going to get wrecked again, you know?”

“So there’s a lot of demons around here, huh?” Nero supposed there must be, if Dante's business was anything to go by. Maybe they even had a Hell Gate here, like Fortuna did.

“Nah, not really” Dante replied, to Nero’s surprise. “Just a lot of bored assholes with too much time on their hands and nothing better to do with it.”

The sun hung low on the horizon as the landscape turned from houses to apartment buildings, accented by the neon lights of the occasional bar or liquor store. In the middle of it all shone the bright red sign of the original Devil May Cry, punctuated with the occasional flickering of the capital ‘D'.

‘Lady' was there to greet them, tossing the keys back to Dante the second he stepped through the door. “This one’s on me,” she told him as she headed out. “Call it a ‘welcome' present for your guest.”

Dante watched with his hands on his hips until the door swung closed behind her, at which point he let out a breath Nero hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “That went better than expected.”

Turning away from the entrance, the devil hunter's gaze fell on Nero’s bandaged arm. “You don’t need to keep that thing wrapped up while you’re here,” he told him, gesturing with his thumb towards a door at the back of the room, behind the large wooden desk; “bathroom's that way, go make yourself comfortable.”

The bathroom of Dante’s office wasn’t exactly the biggest – or the cleanest; just a dingy space accommodating a basic toilet, sink and a curtained shower unit. Nero removed his coat and flung it over the shower rail, then turned his attention to the mirror hanging over the sink opposite. He untucked the loose end of his bandage wrapping and began the tedious process of unravelling it, from the shoulder down. Dark blue scales peeked above the fabric, and Nero frantically unwound the bindings on seeing it – there was something he needed to check. 

It had been a long time since he had dared look at his unclothed arm in the mirror, and the scales seemed to end higher than they should, like they were trying to invade the rest of his body... but no; he could see the scar now - the pale, jagged line that marked where the Assault demon had impaled him in the attack that had left him with the arm he now bore, and the beige tone of his human skin fading into that border line just as it always had – and he rose his left hand to trace it, comforted by the definite contrast in texture. He was imagining things, or at the very least misremembering. There was no need to panic. 

Dante was stood leaning against his desk when Nero exited the bathroom. “There, you look more at home already!” Dante remarked, although Nero didn’t quite know how true that was.

“Before you get settled in though,” he held out a hand to Nero, “I'm gonna need my sword back.”

Nero curled his claws into a fist and practically growled at Dante, instantly on the defensive. “What, you don’t trust me with it any more?”

“Take it easy there, kid,” Dante appealed, retracting the hand that he had extended. “You used the Yamato’s power to unlock your abilities before. If it’s still connected to you, it could be making your problem worse.”

Nero wrung his left hand around the wrist of his demonic arm, considering his options. There was every chance that Dante was lying to defuse the situation; it was equally possible, though, that he was genuinely trying to help. Why did he still feel so dependant on the sword as a symbol of Dante’s acceptance, anyway – here the man was, offering his assistance, wasn’t he?

With a flash of blue light, Nero summoned the blade into his right hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually relied on it in a fight, yet something in him still wanted to hold on to it, some part of him still searching for power.

It was precisely that feeling that made Nero hand it over.

Dante gratefully accepted his brother’s sword, displaying it on the wall of his office alongside some of his other weapons, most notably the Devil Sword Sparda. “Hopefully without this you’ll find it harder to Trigger if you get too riled up,” he explained, “or at least it might make your ‘episodes' shorter when they do happen. We'll see.”

Nero nodded in agreement, but didn’t meet the other’s gaze when he turned back to face him.

“So...” Dante began, attempting to ease the tension, “on to the tour then. You know where the bathroom is, and this,” he gestured with both hands to the general expanse of the lower floor “is the office: my work and home space. This is my desk.” He gave the wooden surface a pat, like it hadn’t already been obvious. “Then we've got the pool table, darts board, couch and T.V. over there, but don’t count on being able to watch anything ‘cus it just keeps shorting out again every time Morrison fixes the damn thing.

“On the other side here is the jukebox - if it doesn’t start playing straight away just give it a good smack and it should start up okay...” he paused, “maybe stick to the left hand for that. Then there’s the second sofa, mini bar and beer fridge. Kitchen’s the door past that, but no one’s used it in a while, so it’s seen better days.”

 _‘So has the bathroom'_ , Nero thought.

“Upstairs,” Dante continued, “there are two rooms. The one on the left is just storage space, I keep a lot of the Devil Arms in there that I don’t really use any more. Room on the right is a bedroom I had to set up a while back for a brief stint at babysitting; you’re welcome to use it if you don’t mind it being pink and frilly.” He chuckled to himself. 

“Wait - if there’s only one bedroom, and no one uses it,” Nero questioned, “then... what about you? Where do you sleep?”

“Right here" the older man answered, patting the back of his desk chair; “though I've also been known to nap on the couch sometimes.”

Nero was dumbfounded. He wasn’t serious, right?

“It's more comfortable than you’d think,” Dante tried to defend himself, but Nero's skeptical look told him that the younger man was chalking it more up to him having gotten used to the situation than actually being happy with it. “Well... the desk and the three-seater are, at least” he continued, undeterred; “I wouldn’t try sleeping on the smaller couch, though.”

“Not enough room to stretch out?”

“Nah, springs are broken” Dante confessed.

“So that’s a T.V. you can’t watch, a jukebox that only works when it wants, an unusable kitchen, and a sofa you can’t sit on.” Nero frowned, “Anything else broken I should know about?”

“Uhmm...”

 _Oh shit_ , he was actually thinking about it. 

“Actually, yeah. The shower doesn’t always get hot water, the toilet backs up a lot, and the front door comes off the hinges really easily - so try not to kick it open too hard if you’re coming or going. Other than that? Nope, nothing.”

Nero was starting to realise that Dante shared the rest of the city’s attitude of ‘if it keeps getting broken there’s no point trying to fix it'. He shook his head in disbelief. “Alright then, I'll test out just how ‘comfy' the couch is tonight; then I'll see just how pink and frilly that room is tomorrow, in the daylight.”

“Good choice.”

—

The ringing of Dante’s office phone brought Nero out of his slumber. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking over to the other man asleep at his desk with a magazine over his face, seemingly oblivious to the offending tone despite being sat right next to it. Nero was about to stand and answer it himself when Dante lifted a leg from the table and slammed it back down, causing the phone receiver to jump into the air. He lifter the magazine from his face with one hand and caught the phone in the other, pressing it to his ear in a motion that should have been too swift for someone who had only just woken up.

“Devil May Cry?”

Dante listened for a moment, then glanced over at Nero. “Yeah, he’s here. You want to talk to him?”

Nero wondered who it was - Trish, maybe. Dante had said he’d be getting her help with figuring out what was wrong with him, after all.

He stepped closer to accept the phone when it was handed to him, leaning against the desk to accommodate for the short cable connecting the receiver to its base. “Hello?”

“Nero?” answered a voice that was most definitely not Trish’s.

“Kyrie, hi.”

Dante stood from his chair, allowing Nero to take a seat, and made his way upstairs to give the phone call a bit of privacy.

“How was your trip?” Kyrie asked cheerily, “Did you run into any trouble on the way?”

“N-no, it was all pretty quiet...” Nero was still at a loss for why Kyrie would be calling him at all – hadn’t he just been an absolute dick to her the day before?

She sighed in relief. “That’s good then, I'm glad you’re okay.” 

“Why do you care, anyway?” he asked, trying his best to not to come across as abrasive. “After yesterday, I thought--"

“—I know you meant well, Nero,” Kyrie replied genuinely. “I think Dante really can help you, though, and some time away from Fortuna might do you some good. And then when you come back...” she trailed off.

When he came back, what? Would she still wait for him anyway?

“Well,” she started again, “I'll always care about you, Nero, however far away you are, and however long you have to stay there.”

Nero’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s good to hear.” 

Dante was on his way back downstairs, Nero could see him in his peripheral, so he decided it would be best to cut the conversation short. “Sorry Kyrie, I've gotta go. Talk soon?”

“Of course.” She replied, and he could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Well, goodbye for now. Stay safe.”

“Yeah, you too.” Nero gave his farewells and hung up the phone, turning to leave Dante’s seat only to find the man standing far closer to him than he would have expected. 

“Sounds like you didn’t totally screw things up, well done, kid!” Dante jested, twirling a set of tripartite nunchaku around his finger by its central ring. “So, you up for a bit of sparring? I dug this puppy out, and I think he’s overdue for some playtime.”

“Sure,” Nero agreed, passing Dante to retrieve Red Queen from her case and assemble her. “Where are we taking this?”

“Right here.”

Nero looked up to see Dante already assuming a fighting stance with his weapon in the middle of the office. He quickly completed his sword’s preparation and stood ready for the fight as well, revving up the Exceed system. "Bring it."

Dante was the first to strike, slamming the nunchaku rods into the floor and causing a series of ice pillars to emerge from the tiles heading towards Nero, who made a swift sweep with the Red Queen, dispersing her flames and melting the ice.

Nero streaked forward with his sword, but was met by Dante’s spinning windmill maneuverer and was deflected with a loud clang of metal against metal. Again and again the Red Queen met with the twirling rods of the Cerberus, every attack being blocked with ease.

Nero’s fighting technique hadn’t changed much since Dante had first met him in Fortuna – still as reckless as ever; he could hit hard, that was for sure, but he favoured strength over style and that made him easy to read. The older man, however, was using a new weapon that the younger hadn’t faces off against before – and one that was excellent at parrying, too – which was making him increasingly frustrated. He wanted the fight over as soon as possible, lashing out without really thinking about his or his opponent’s next move, his only focus on wearing Dante down and making contact, and that made it all too easy for Dante to catch him off guard. He held the chainsticks in both hands, creating a bar to catch Nero’s next downward strike before pushing him backwards, causing the young man to stumble before leaping backwards himself, putting a bit of space between them.

“You fight well, young Grasshopper, but you still have much left to learn.” Dante joked, moving his mouth out of sync with his words to mimic a dubbed kung fu movie. The imitation only served to rile Nero up more, and he immediately advanced on the older man - but Dante was still both more experienced and more collected than his opponent, and easily leaped over the oncoming thrust of Nero's Red Queen. He took advantage of the young hunter's startled attempt to recover and round on him again, catching his sword in an envelopment with the nunchakus and succeeding in forcing Nero to drop his blade.

With a few swift twirls of the Cerberus, he brought the nunchaku back round to land his final blow and claim victory, but Nero blocked the hit with the thick armour of his devil arm. As one of the chainsticks connected with the hard scales, Nero reached for the third bar of the trio and wrenched the weapon from Dante’s hand, disarming him. He cast the nunchakus down, sending them skidding across the hardwood, and stood glowering at Dante.

Dante looked around the room at each of their discarded weapons and gave a round of applause. “Good game, Nero. I'd say that was a tie.”

“Calling it quits already?” Nero growled, flexing the glowing claws of his demonic hand, “You might be getting tired, old man, but I'm not.”

There was an edge to Nero’s voice that Dante didn’t like. He saw the oncoming attack and lunged forward, pinning Nero to the wall with his Bringer arm trapped behind his back.

“Alright, that’s enough kid,” Dante commanded, locking his gaze with the younger part-demon's red rimmed eyes, “Time to call it a day.”

But Nero had other ideas. Dante was blasted back by the force of his demonic aura as he triggered, the now Demon-Nero taking the opportunity of having staggered his opponent by grabbing him in his spectral claws and flinging him across the room.

Dante narrowly missed colliding straight into the wall, saved only by the presence of the two-seater in the corner; if the springs hadn’t already been broken before, then they would be now. He recovered quickly, arming himself with Ebony and Ivory to send a barrage of bullets Nero’s way, putting him off his follow up attack. They were past 'playing' now.

Ducking beneath the wild swipes of Nero’s claws, Dante made a quick Trickster dash for the fallen Cerberus. With a well-aimed sling of the weapon, the demon was caught mid-pounce and pinned to the wall with his arms above his head, wrists trapped behind the connecting chains of the tripartite as the metal rods of the weapon lay embedded in the office wall.

Dante watched as Nero was left scrambling to find the leverage to pull himself free, unable to loosen the joints of the solid demonic metal or drag the spiked armour plating covering his hands out from under the sturdy chains. However much Nero flailed, Cerberus‘ jaws remained locked. _'Good dog',_ he thought.

“That ought to hold you till you’ve cool off.” Dante breathed heavily, slumping down in the office chair and taking a moment to compose himself before lifting the phone’s handset to make a call.

“Trish? I'm gonna need your expert opinion on something. How soon can you make it?”

—

Nero slipped his wrists free from the chains binding them. He looked up at the weapon embedded on the wall and wondered how long he’d been strung up for, rubbing his sore shoulders and wrists.

He looked around the office to work out where Dante had gotten off to, since he hadn’t heard any snide remarks from the older man yet. He found him with no trouble, taking a nap in his desk chair, magazine back over his face. Nero lifted the pages from Dante’s face and he cracked an eye open before sitting upright with a stretch. “Ah, so you’re finally back.” he noted between yawns.

“Yeah... how long was I up there?” Nero asked.

“I dunno, maybe an hour or two?” Dante guessed. The devil hunter stood and crossed the room to the Cerberus, pulling it free with one foot on the wall for leverage and leaving three sizeable holes in the plastered brickwork.

“I can fix that, Dante.” Nero offered, “It’s my fault.”

But Dante was already peeling one of his posters off of the wall, the image of the scantily clad woman removed to reveal that the eyepatch-donning woman in the partially obscured picture beneath had been wearing _even less_ clothes, and Nero had to look away.

Dante took his poster over to the broken section of wall and stuck it up squarely over the holes. “Nah, this’ll do - it’s not the first busted-up wall I've had in my office.” He announced.

Nero wondered how many other posters around the place were there purely to hide damages, because there were definitely plenty of them. 

“Now I don’t know about you, but I think it’s about time we has something to eat.” Dante remarked, pulling Nero out of his thoughts. "You like pizza? What kind of toppings you want?” Dante asked, already picking up the phone to order.

“I don’t know, what kinds are there?”

Dante rummaged around in one of the drawers on his desk, eventually fishing out a dog-eared old menu pamphlet and handing it to the younger man. “Take a look, let me know what takes your fancy.”

“I'll have the ‘Classic',” Nero decided after a brief look at each description. “Pepperoni, bell peppers, olives and mushroom.” Dante dropped the phone receiver back onto its base, looking back at him in disgust. Nero frowned “What?”

“I take back what I said before about being able to help you, kid” Dante told him with a grimace; “You’re a lost cause - pure Demon.”

Okay, so he wasn’t a fan of the ‘Classic', then.

Still shaking his head, Dante lifter the receiver back to his ear and dialled the number of the pizza place.

“Hey, yeah it’s me. Nope, it’s something a little different today; I need a Classic and a Double Pepperoni – yep, that’s right, still no olives on _either_ of ‘em...” he gave Nero a pointed look. “Yeah, just stick it on my tab-- yeah, yeah, I know.”

It sounded like Dante knew the guys at the pizza place pretty well. Then again, everyone in Fortuna pretty much knew everyone else – maybe the cities on the mainland weren’t so different.

One thing Nero decided was definitely different, though, was the pizza.

When it arrived, Nero was expecting to open the delivery box to a thick focaccia base topped with pesto; what he got was a thin, greasy bread crust covered with tomato puree and cheese – and not a strong cheese, either, something mild and stringy.

It was pretty good, actually. Would have been better with those olives, though.

The double doors swung open and a blonde woman sauntered in, heading straight for Dante’s desk and his last slice of pizza.

“You called?” the woman inquired, ignoring Dante’s look of displeasure as she dangled the pizza slice in front of him.

He nodded over towards Nero. “You remember the kid, right? Well, he’s got a problem and he’s come all this way to get it fixed.”

“And you need my help with it? Aww, I'm honoured.” She mocked, taking a bite.

Nero set aside the last of his pizza to join the two at the desk. “I've been having trouble with my demon side: losing time after missions, waking up in strange places.”

“It’s like Nero’s not home whenever he Triggers.” Dante added, “Damn thing’s feral.” 

“Let’s see that arm of yours,” she said to Nero, more directing than asking. He held the Bringer out for her to see, and she pulled it closer to inspect him, tracing the cracks between his scales with her finger.

Nero was beyond uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to having his right arm handled, especially by someone who might as well have been a stranger. He couldn’t read her expression while she did it, either, so there was no way of knowing if it was going to be good news or not. On top of that, the Bringer was glowing fiercely in its own form of protest – like Trish was some kind of demonic threat.

After a short time she let go of the Bringer, pacing in a slow circle around the young man, a finger pressed against her lip as she continued her assessment of him. She stopped back in front of him, but said nothing, prompting Nero to give her an agitated shrug and a sharp question of “Well?”

“Well,” Trish responded, “you’re not possessed; there’s nothing ‘off’ about your power's aura. I can’t see any parasites on you either, so there’s nothing external affecting your abilities.”

“What, so you’re telling me nothing’s wrong?” Nero snapped back.

“I didn’t say that.” She corrected. “I said there are no outside forces I can see causing it. Whatever problems you’re having, they’re all you.”

Trish made herself comfortable while Nero tried to process her words, perching on the edge of Dante’s desk before continuing with her explanation. “The most likely reason for your issue is because you refuse to accept your demon heritage.”

“So what you’re saying,” Dante chimed in, “is that Nero doesn’t want to think about himself as a demon, so his brain shuts off every time he Triggers... so he doesn’t have to see it?”

“Exactly.” The woman confirmed. “Which is why he has blank spots in his memory, and why his devil self acts like an animal – because the human half of his mind is blocking itself off from taking control, so his natural instincts are left to take the reins.”

“How do I stop it then?” Nero questioned, “how do I take control?”

“By learning to accept it.” Trish answered plainly. “I'm sorry, Nero, but that’s it; there’s no ‘quick fix’ option for this.”

Nero took a seat on the couch and said nothing. The office fell quiet.

“If that’s all you boys needed me for," Trish announced, breaking the silence, “then I'll be off.” She stood from Dante’s desk and headed for the door without waiting for a response from either of the men. “Ciao.”

The door closed, and Dante rose from his seat in favour of one beside Nero. “I mean, it’s kind of good news, right? If nothing’s actually wrong, I mean.” Dante reassured.

“I guess.” Nero replied solemnly. “Maybe it would have been easier if there was, though - at least then I could kill it. It’s not like I can just flip a switch and be okay with everything.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dante responded genuinely. “So, if you’re gonna be sticking around for a while,” He continued, perking up again, “you might wanna go and take a look at that room - unless you like staying on the couch, that is.”

“Not a chance. I'll take pink frills over sleeping on this thing again any day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Just to clarify, the Morrison in this series is Anime!Morrison, purely because that's the Morrison I knew at the time I started writing the story. Should I write anything else with him in going forward, it will be DMC5!Morrison._
> 
> _Also, I realise that in DMC4 Dante had 2 red three-seater sofas in his office. For the purpose of this fic, something happened to them and now he has the ugly green sofa from the promotional render and a matching two-seater/loveseat. Other than that the office is pretty much the same._


	6. The one where Nero asks Dante a lot of questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where Nero asks Dante a lot of questions_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In which Nero and Dante spend some time trying to get to know each other, but they're Spardas so they aren't very good at it._

Dante’s so-called ‘storage room' turned out to be more of a dumping ground. Nero had been hoping to find some DIY supplies in there to get the office wall fixed, and he was lucky enough to do so... eventually, tucked in a corner behind an old drum kit with busted skins. He suspected that it was more than likely out of date, but it would still hopefully cover the hole over better than Dante’s magazine pullout - even if only temporarily.

Nero descended the steps to the office, finding its owner arming himself with his customary sword and guns. “Got a job?” Nero asked.

“Yeah, I'm heading out.” He replied plainly, slinging his red coat over one shoulder.

“Give me a sec then, I'll come with you.” Nero offered, but Dante shook his head.

“I've already got Lady and Trish there waiting for me, should be more than enough. Besides,” he gestured to the bag of plaster mix Nero was carrying, “it looks like you’re already busy.”

“Be honest with me, Dante,” Nero entreated, “You don’t want me working with you.”

Dante sighed; there was no point in pretending now. “I just think maybe you’re not ready. Don’t want you out there doing anything you'll regret later, that’s all.”

Nero gritted his teeth and nodded, saying nothing, and Dante took it as his cue to leave. The office door swung closed behind him, and Nero dropped the plaster onto the coffee table with an unnecessary amount of force before flopping himself down on the sofa.

Fuck fixing Dante’s wall. The bastard didn’t deserve it.

After a while of quietly seething, ruminating over Dante and how much of a dick he was, Nero came to the startling realisation that maybe Dante was right; maybe he wasn’t ready. He glared at the bag of plaster mix as though it had somehow been the one to try and convince him that Dante wasn’t the bad guy in this situation, determined in his resolve that he was absolutely _not_ moving from his seat until the other hunter got back.

Less than ten minutes later, Nero had taken down yesterday’s poster and was preparing a small batch of plaster. If anyone asked, then he would tell them that boredom had won; the truth, though, was that he had realised how ridiculous and childish his protest was. Dante hadn’t done anything so far but try to help, and sulking about it wasn’t going to get Nero anywhere.

The plaster was definitely well past its use by date, and it was a system of trial and error to get the right consistency without it setting prematurely and crumbling, but it was done, and Nero was actually feeling pretty good about himself for doing it. So, while the plaster mix was already out and ready to be used, he decided to investigate which other posters were hiding holes in the wall. Why not? He had nothing else to do, and once again, Nero had the excuse of boredom on his side; no need to tell Dante that this was his way of thanking him.

His certainly hadn’t been the first hole on the office wall. Over the course of that morning, Nero ended up filling in all kinds of other hidden breakages, ranging from long cracks and narrow blade-pierced cavities in the brickwork to clusters of bullet holes (some of which Nero had to actually fish the bullets out of before plastering them over), and Nero had to wonder how long Dante had left the office without any kind of repairs. Once he thought he had all of the damages taken care of, the off-duty devil hunter took mental notes of everything else in the shop that needed fixing – because who knew when he would be trusted to head out on jobs again?

It reminded Nero of the leave of absence he had been made to take from the Order’s Holy Knights after the attack that gave him his arm; he'd done a lot of housework and home repairs during that time, too, even if he was forced to do almost all of it one-handed. Between that and his pre-existing interest of dabbling in mechanics, Nero was pretty sure he could make something of Dante’s place before he left. Or at the very least, he could make his own stay more comfortable.

The first thing on his list: redecorating the bedroom.

Nero was broken out of his musings by the heavy office doors being kicked open. Dante strode in, pizza boxes in hand, already occupied with eating a slice. He threw the two boxes onto the desk, and Nero realised that one of them was intended for him.

Being from Fortuna, the idea of having takeaway meals two days in a row was a foreign concept to the younger man, but the smell wafting from the cardboard takeout box reminded him that he hadn’t eaten yet, and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dante, meanwhile, had finished the slice he had walked in with and was now taking in the current state of the office. He let out a low whistle of approval as he slowly circled the room. “Nice work, kid. It’s been a long time since the walls have looked this solid.” He complimented, giving one of the new patches a light tap as he inspected the work.

Nero opened his pizza box and took out a slice. Still no olives. “Thanks. I wanna get upstairs done next – you really weren’t kidding about that room being pink.” He took a bite before continuing, jokingly, “What happened? Business get so slow you took up a babysitting gig?”

Dante laughed. “Something like that. It’s a long story, but it ends with a little girl going home safely with her mother, so I guess it’s not a bad one.”

Nero gave a ‘hmm' in response. No, that didn’t sound like a bad ending to a story at all.

“And you’re sure I can have that room?” Nero checked again after another slice of pizza, just to make sure. “You want me to do anything with the other one for you?”

“Bedroom's all yours. I don’t need one, really,” the older man insisted, waving him off. “It’s a business strategy,” he continued on seeing Nero’s quizzical look, tapping his temple as though giving away some great secret; “I don’t have to worry about getting up on time, because as soon as we open, I'm already here.”

Nero frowned, still not convinced. “Well... how about a proper room for training, then? Save this one from getting any more holes in the walls?” He offered instead; the room upstairs couldn’t stay as it was now, that was for sure.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dante agreed, “Let me know what you need, I'll get Morrison to pick up some things for you.”

Nero nodded in thanks, his mouth still full of pizza. Dante settled into his usual seat at the desk and the two of them continued their meal in relative silence until a question sprung into Nero’s mind: “Hey Dante, who's Tony Redgrave?”

Dante looked a little caught off guard at hearing that name. “Huh?”

“Tony Redgrave,” Nero repeated, “there was a bunch of letters addressed to him up in your trash pile of a storage room. Who is he?”

Or perhaps, who _was_ he, Nero thought. Dante hadn’t killed the guy to get this place, had he? The older man didn’t strike him as that kind of guy... but then again, it wasn’t as though he really knew a lot about him.

“Tony Redgrave,” Dante began in a solemn tone, “is me.”

Nero was taken a little aback. He was expecting – if not a secret murder victim – for Tony to have maybe been an old business partner who had never had his name removed from the lease, or something along those lines; certainly not an alter ego.

Dante pulled Ebony and Ivory out from their holsters and set them down on the desk. “Take a look,” he told Nero. Intrigued, Nero wiped the pizza grease from his fingers and picked up each gun in turn, finding the message written on both of them: ‘for Tony Redgrave'. “It was a name I used when I was younger, and it still comes in handy for some of the more official paperwork – looks a lot better than ‘Dante, Son of Sparda', you know?”

Nero had to agree with that. It definitely made sense; now he felt stupid for ever thinking otherwise. He handed the twin firearms back to their owner, but something else had stuck out to him about them, besides the name. “Did they... does it actually say ‘Art Warks' on them?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

They both had to chuckle a little at the misspelling.

“It’s real, isn’t it? The whole ‘Son of Sparda’ thing?” Nero wondered aloud, having settled back into quiet musing. “I mean, I grew up hearing all the stories, but I never thought they were true – a demon, protecting humans? But then, I find out they are true, and not just that, but he had a family as well? It’s crazy.”

“Well, that’s life for you,” Dante responded, “always throwing crazy stuff your way.”

“I guess so,” Nero agreed, pushing the empty pizza boxes aside and accidentally catching the edge of the photo frame on Dante’s desk, knocking it over. He quickly reached for the fallen trinket and checked it over for any damages, which thankfully there weren’t any. He was sure he recognised the person in the picture, though.

“Are you and Trish dating or something?” Nero questioned, “Why’ve you got a photo of her on your desk?”

“That’s not Trish,” Dante laughed, “that picture’s of my mother, but I won’t blame you for thinking they look alike.” He took on a more serious tone as he explained: “Trish is a demon, she was made by Mundus to look like my mother so that he could use her to lure me into a trap.”

“Mundus?” Nero repeated, “as in THE Mundus?”

“Yep, the very same.” Dante affirmed. “Almost worked, too, but he didn’t count on his own creation growing a heart and turning against him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I should have seen it coming, though – her trying to kill me, I mean; she did introduce herself by throwing a motorbike through the office. And to answer your question, no, we’re not dating.”

“I guess that means I'm not the only person you know who tried to kill you the first time we met then, huh?”

“I know very few people who haven’t. Occupational hazard, I guess.” Dante shrugged. “Not that it bothers me. I'd say a good fight's the best way to get to know a person.”

“You’re joking, right?” Nero challenged. At this point, it was getting hard to tell.

“No, really. Like you – I could tell you plenty about yourself from the way you fight.” Dante leaned so far back in his chair that Nero was surprised it hadn’t topped over yet and began to list things off on his fingers. “You say ‘slam dunk' sometimes when you throw things with your demon arm, so I'd say you’re a basketball fan. You probably watch your fair share of pro wrestling, too, ‘cus you've got a few of their power manoeuvre under your belt.

“Of everyone I fought on that island, you were the only one with a gun, which makes you either a rebel or a special case, and with your attitude I'd go with ‘rebel'. You also let your emotions get the better of you sometimes, and it shows in the way you let loose when you attack. 

“The main thing, though? You were disappointed that I underestimated you. You want people to see how strong you are, and respect you for it. Mostly, you just want acceptance.”

“Tch, whatever,” Nero crossed his arms, trying his best to seem unimpressed. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“I'm serious. Go on, you tell me something about me" Dante coaxed.

“I don’t know! This is stupid.”

“Come on, kid, just humour me for a second. Think about it.”

“Okay... you did that stupid lipsync thing yesterday, right? So, what, that proves you watch cheesy kung fu movies?”

Dante laughed. “I do... or at least I do when the T.V.’s working. What else? Think harder.”

So Nero thought. 

“You like to taunt your opponent and always have something to say during a fight. 

“It’s because you don’t take any of it seriously – like it’s all just a big game. You don’t hunt demons for the money, or because it keeps people safe; you do it for the fun. The bigger and badder the better, right? Just to make it more of a challenge.

“But you do care about people, too. You always pull your punches with me, not just because you’re playing around, but because you’re trying to help me learn, and you don’t want me dead. You could have put me down when I attacked you as a demon, but you didn’t. 

“You could have taken your brother’s sword back by force and handled the Order by yourself, but you stepped back instead and let me do it, on my own terms, because you see what’s important to others. Hell, judging by the state of this place, you look after other people more than you do yourself. 

“And then there's all those weapons you like showing off with, and you just dump them in a dusty old room – but you always carry around those same two guns you’ve had for hell knows how long, and that same sword with the skulls on; then you've got your dad's old sword on display in pride of place, and now your brother’s is up with it, right across from a photo of your mother? Underneath all the showboating, you’re a sentimental old bastard really, aren’t you?”

“Well, that last part wasn’t exactly about fighting, but I'll let it slide.” The older man conceded with a smile. “I ought to kick your ass for that ‘bastard' comment, though - I'll have you know my parents were happily married when I came along.”

Nero was about to make a joke at Dante’s expense, betting they didn’t stay happy for long after he arrived, but he was cut short by the office phone. Dante answered with the shop's customary greeting, and almost immediately passed the receiver to Nero.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Nero, hi. Did Dante manage to find out what’s wrong yet?” Kyrie’s voice answered, posing her own question.

“Uh, yeah; yeah, he did. It’s... not an easy fix, though.” He told her honestly, “it looks like I'm gonna be sticking around here for a while.”

“Oh, okay...” she responded quietly. Nero didn’t miss the disappointment in her voice. “Do you need me to get any of your things sent over there?”

“No, thanks. I think I'm okay for now.” She was too sweet, really, still worrying about his needs when he was so far away. “You just worry about keeping people there warm and fed, okay; I'm doing just fine.”

“If you do need anything, just call, okay?” she encouraged.

“Okay, I will.” Nero agreed, if only to appease Kyrie. “We'll just have to see how long this thing takes.”

“I know you'll work things out, Nero,” Kyrie assured him, “however long it might seem.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Kyrie.” He said earnestly.

“Any time.” She told him, cheerily. “Well, I should probably go. Keep safe.”

“You too.”

Nero set the phone down and looked up to see Dante’s eyes still on him, and a playful smirk on his face. “What?” he accosted.

“You know,” Dante remarked, “you’re a completely different person when you’re talking to her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nero snapped back.

“See? You’re all nice and softly spoken taking to your girl on the phone, and then I say one thing and you’re about to tear my head off.” The older man defended with a huff. 

Nero supposed he was right.

“I'm not saying it’s a bad thing, kid.” Dante clarified. “She just really brings out the human in you.” He settled back into his chair and put his feet up on the desk. “It might be worth you answering the phone from now on. Probably more likely to be Kyrie calling than anyone else. Just remember to say ‘Devil May Cry' when you answer, just in case, but I doubt it’ll be anyone with a job offer.”

“If it is, can I take it?” Nero asked, curious as to when he'd get to go on a mission himself.

“We'll see.” Dante concluded, picking up one of his magazines and leafing through it to signify the end of their conversation. “Just waiting for the right one to come along.”

Nero nodded, acknowledging the connotation of ‘probably not' in Dante’s answer, though he doubted the other man saw it. He wandered across from the desk to sit on the sofa, kicking his feet up and leaning back on the arm rest with his hands folded behind his head.

If jobs were so few and far between, Nero wondered, then had Dante even really been out working today? Or was he just making excuses to leave Nero behind while he spent time with other people?

And if it was the latter, why hadn’t he just been upfront about it? 

Nero’s imagination began to run wild, conjuring images of Dante leaving in secret with Lady and Trish, just so that he could talk shit about how useless and weak Nero was for not being able to control his own demonic power. Something inside the young man told him that is wasn’t real, that Dante genuinely cared and was trying to help, but the idea of it stung all the same.

He hated this. Things were supposed to get better after he left Fortuna, but here he was only two days in, and already feeling like just as much of an outcast here as he was at home.

Had coming all the way over to the mainland really been worth it?


	7. The one where the power gets shut off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The one where the power gets shut off_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Alternative title: The Pizza Chapter_

Nero felt as though he had had a very productive week. Not in terms of training – far from it, especially with Dante’s lackadaisical attitude – but he'd gotten plenty done around the shop in the meantime. The spare room was actually looking like something he could call ‘his', and he was making some headway on clearing out the storage room as well.

Dante (surprisingly) actually had some pretty cool stuff in amongst all of the trash. Along with the Cerberus nunchaku, there was a small collection of other interesting weapons to be found that Nero was sure would come in handy when the room was put to use; a few of them were interesting enough for him to consider mounting them on the walls, too.

There was also a half decent old red leather jacket – sans right sleeve – unceremoniously tossed over a busted amplifier, which Dante had seemed surprised to see when Nero had presented it to him. “Ha, I remember this old thing,” the older man had commented. “I doubt it would fit me any more – you want it?” he asked Nero, “It’s even got the arm room for you.”

“No thanks,” the younger hunter had declined, “I don’t think I could pull off the all-red look like you do.”

It was now serving as a work surface, as Nero used it to blanket the floor while he laid small components from the jukebox onto it, stopping them from rolling away and getting lost in the cracks between the floorboards.

Since the day he arrived at Devil May Cry, Nero hadn’t seen a single customer enter the shop, and the only phone calls they seemed to get were – true to Dante’s word – the daily check up calls he received from Kyrie. The shop owner’s time had been taken up with a mixture of flicking through magazines, sleeping in his chair, and one or two trips out to ‘meet up with the ladies' – which by now Nero had come to the decision were _definitely_ not work related – all of which had left the young man to his own company, and there were only so many times he could listen to the same few CDs on his walkman, hence the attempt to fix Dante’s prized hunk of junk.

After stripping the machine of most of its moving parts to figure out how they were supposed to work, Nero had worked out that Dante’s method of ‘give the jukebox a kick and that normally gets it going’ was being caused by (or was perhaps more likely the cause of) the loading carriage misaligning with the record magazine.

Whilst the owner of the jukebox idly flicked through yet another magazine, Nero cleaned all of the mechanical components and fit them back together again. Then, he turned the music player back on, crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best.

The jukebox whirred into action, selecting a record from the collection and setting it down to play without a sign of any faults. For the first non-violent time in a long time, the sound of rock music filled the Devil May Cry office.

That was enough to pique Dante’s interest.

He cast a glance in Nero’s direction over the top of his magazine, before setting it down on the desk to give a round of applause. “Hah, nice one kid!” he congratulated, “how about we order in some pizza to celebrate?”

_Pizza._

Only one week in, and Nero was already sick of the stuff.

“Pass.” Nero told Dante before the older man had even gotten the phone out of its cradle. “You can order for yourself if you want, but I'll get my own food. You said this place had a kitchen, right?”

Dante finished dialling the number and nodded, pointing with his thumb at the door just beyond the bar before leaning back in the office chair to place his order.

Nero pushed the door open and flicked the light switch. The kitchen was a small, simple room comprising of little more than a stove, a sink and a couple of cupboards. It didn’t even have a refrigerator, which the young man supposed explained the one out on the office floor and proved that not _everything_ Dante did was out of laziness. It was a far cry from the sprawling counter space he was used to in Fortuna, but he supposed it didn’t matter if the room wasn’t seeing any cooking anyway. It had at some point, however, apparently been used as a dumping ground for all of Dante’s empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, which took up almost all of what little work space there had been. Nero decided he didn’t want to know how long some of them had been left there.

He turned the taps on just to see if they still worked, which they did, though he noted the thick line of limescale trailing down into the sink from where one of them had been dripping unattended for God only knew how long.

Next to check was the stove. It was a gas one, the box of matches to accompany it still untouched and coated in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. He couldn’t smell any gas, meaning that at least there was no need to worry about the complication of any leaks, so Nero tested out one of the hobs to make sure it was still actually connected to the supply and functioning. Once again, no issues there; as far as Nero could see, the only things coming between him and some actual food were the cleanliness of the kitchen and the pure fact that there was nothing to actually cook, both of which could be easily remedied without having to suffer any more takeouts.

Nero was just re-entering the office to ask where to find the nearest grocery store (assuming Dante even knew what a grocery store was) when the jukebox died. And apparently not just the jukebox, either. The kitchen light behind Nero went out, leaving the doorway behind him in darkness; the office ceiling fan slowed to a halt; and Dante pulled the phone receiver away from his ear, looking at it in a way that told Nero the line had also gone dead.

“Power cut?” Nero asked, flipping the kitchen light switch off and on again a couple of times, just in case.

“Something like that,” Dante replied, setting the receiver back down and getting comfortable in his chair, feet up on the desk.

“Blown fuse then, maybe?” Nero asked again, trying to be helpful since Dante didn’t seem to be too bothered about solving it himself. “Think the jukebox shorted out again and tripped something?”

“Nah,” Dante dismissed him. “More like the power company’s shut it off. Bills haven’t been paid this month.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Nero shot back, receiving only a pursed smile and a shrug in response. “So were you planning on paying up, or do we just sit here in the dark ‘till someone walks in with a job?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Dante said with an air of nonchalance. “Difference is, this time I _did_ have the money, but something else came up.”

“Tch,” Nero scoffed, “yeah? And what was more important than making sure your bills got paid?”

Dante said nothing; instead, he held Nero’s gaze until the truth hit him – he had been more important. Instead of taking care of his own expenses, Dante had paid out for the ferry tickets to get Nero out of Fortuna, and to help him set up a room for himself.

Nero wasn’t angry any more. Now he just felt like an asshole.

He sure as hell wasn’t sitting around here, though.

Taking the stairs up to the storage room, Nero scanned the room under the blue glow of his arm. If he could find a payphone, he might be able to fix things; but first he needed the change to make a call, and he was sure he’d seen some loose coins while he'd been moving things around.

Armed with a small assortment of coins, Nero returned to the office. “You got that bill?” he asked Dante, leaning on the desk. The other man fished around in one of the desk drawers before producing an envelope, which he set down on the table top. Nero folded it into his coat pocket, and removed another slip of paper – an old bank statement he had found upstairs – and held it out for Dante to see. “These still your details?” he asked.

Dante leaned forward for a better look before nodding. “Should be. What've you got planned?” He quirked an eyebrow at the young man.

“Getting the power back on.” Nero replied plainly. “Just trust me, okay?”

Nero hadn’t left the shop in the week since he had arrived, but he was pretty sure he remembered seeing a phone booth not too far from the building when they had first driven into town. He made hasty work of wrapping his right arm, and stepped out of the building.

The streets were mostly empty, thanks to the surrounding businesses being geared more towards the city's night life than daily living, but even the few who did pass didn’t pay the young man a second glance – something he wasn’t particularly used to, having grown up being quite the spectacle in Fortuna – but he could definitely learn to live like this. Either city life meant that people were too busy to pay attention, or they were just so used to seeing Dante around here that white hair was no longer interesting; either one suited Nero just fine.

Nero stepped into the phone booth at the end of the street and fished around in his pocket for the coins. He wasn’t exactly familiar with the local currency – hell, he didn’t even know if half of Dante’s mislaid change would still be in circulation – so he didn’t know how long of a call he could get out of it, but he crossed the fingers of his sling-wrapped Bringer and hoped for the best, slotting every coin he had into the machine and dialling the number of his own little branch of Devil May Cry.

“Hello?” came an answer. “This is Kyrie speaking.”

Perfect, just the girl he wanted to talk to.

“Hey Kyrie, it’s not too busy there right now, is it?” He asked, hoping that he hadn’t caught her during any kind of meal time rush. He wasn’t sure exactly what the time difference was between here and Fortuna.

“Nero?” she replied, forcing him to mentally slap himself for not actually introducing himself on the call. “No, I can spare a few minutes... is something wrong?”

Why did she have to be so perceptive?

“Not ‘wrong', exactly,” Nero downplayed it, “but something's come up and, well...”

Now that he was in the position of asking Kyrie for her help, it seemed wrong somehow; like he was taking advantage of her kindness, leaving her like he did and only now calling her up himself when he needed something. Something in the back of his mind told him it was stupid, that they had been talking every day since he left and that she would understand completely, but it didn’t stop his gut from churning at the notion of what he was about to ask.

“Do you think you can transfer some cash over to Dante’s account, you know, for my expenses? I promise I'll pay you back when Dante lets me out on a job, it’s just--"

“It’s fine, Nero, you don’t have to explain.”

And there she was again, being far nicer than he deserved.

They discussed some of the fine details before Kyrie asked Nero to bear with her for a moment while she looked for a pen and paper to take down Dante’s information. Nero drummed his bandaged fingers against his side as he stood listening to the distant sounds of the lunch room while he waited.

Until the call ended.

There was a click, and then the shrill sound of the dial tone cut through the ambience. Nero tucked the phone receiver in the crook of his neck and pressed frantically on the ‘return change' button, hoping for some rejected coins that he could try to reuse, but nothing happened.

He dropped the phone back into the cradle and slammed his left fist into the back of the phone booth in frustration, leaving a sizeable dent in the metal sheet.

He’d been so close.

_Shit._

_Shit, shit._

_Fuck._

_SHIT._

Then the phone began to ring.

Nero whipped it back out of the holder so quickly he dropped the phone, having to fumble with the cord to get it back up to his ear.

“Nero? Are you there?” Kyrie asked. “The call got disconnected so I dialled back.”

Nero breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, yeah I'm here.”

“You know, you don’t have to pay the money back.” She reassured him once they had gone over everything one more time. “Technically it’s already your money too, not just mine.”

“I know. Thanks Kyrie.” Nero closed the conversation. He had already made up his mind, though, that he was going to pay her back; she needed their money more than he did, what with all of the aid she was providing for the city. He’d earn his own way.

-

Nero arrived back at the shop, triumphant.  
“Wake up old man,” he told Dante, lifting the magazine from his snoozing face and lightly swatting him with it a couple of times to gain the man's attention. “We’re going out.”

“Yeah?” Dante asked, stretching. “Where to?”

“To pay your bills, for a start. Come on!” Nero called back, already heading out of the door again.

Nero kept his fingers crossed the entire time he and Dante were in line at the bank; not that he really needed to. Kyrie, angel that she was, had been quick to get everything arranged, and had transferred over enough money to pay for the current utilities bill, as well as a little extra for any other unexpected expenses.

“How long does it normally take for the power to come back on when it’s all been paid off?” Nero asked Dante as they left.

Dante shrugged. “Probably not straight away since they only just shut it off. The money shouldn't take too long to clear, so maybe some time tomorrow?”

“Then I guess we’ll have to use that time sorting out everything else.” Nero commented.

Dante quirked an eyebrow. “’Everything else', huh?”

By which, of course, he meant the kitchen.

They ended up, more by virtue of street signs and roadside tourist map billboards than Dante’s actual knowledge of the city, at a supermarket.

Nero had never been inside a shop so big before. Fortuna was founded primarily on independent businesses – family owned stores and street market vendors – but this place seemed to sell _everything_. It was a lot to take in.

Despite the fact that he was seemingly from the city, Dante didn’t seem to be fairing any better with their shopping trip. Nero had never seen the older man look so uncomfortable to be around other people before; he always came across as so laid back, as though nothing and no one could phase him, and seeing him looking so tense and on-edge put the man in a whole new light.

For once, they were on a level playing field, having to each help the other as they aimlessly wandered the sprawling aisles in an attempt to figure out where to find what they needed. Nero, having come from a town with old-fashioned values where domestic matters were deal with by the women, had only a vague idea of what he was doing, based largely on reading aisle signs and product labels; he was still – in his own opinion – doing better at shopping than Dante, who seemed to have spent a vast amount of his time in the store following Nero around and asking if they had everything yet and when they could leave, giving the younger man a decent understanding of why it was Morrison who normally got sent out to buy anything the Devil May Cry office needed.

Dante had perked up, however, at the prospect of making his own pizza, and his biggest contribution to the trip had been a pre-made base and variety of toppings.

Nero, who was still dead set on eating something that _wasn’t_ pizza, had added a few different shapes if dried pasta and some sauces to the cart, confident enough in his limited kitchen knowledge that he could at least follow the instructions on the pre-prepared jars – as well as sneaking in a jar of black olives for himself while Dante wasn’t looking. If he was going to be forced to eat pizza again any time soon, it was at least going to be on his own terms.

-

The men's afternoon was spent cleaning the kitchen.

Any fresh food they had bought had been shut away in the office’s refrigerator in the hopes that it would stay cool until the power was back on, and all other consumables had been left bagged up on and around Dante’s desk, while they had armed themselves with various spray cleaners and a roll of garbage bags.

In between mocking jibes at Dante’s cleaning habits (or lack thereof), every inch of every surface of the small room was cleared of trash and scrubbed within an inch of its life until the place looked – almost – useable.

“Hey Dante?” Nero asked as he returned from taking yet another refuse sack out to the dumpster, using his right arm to light the rapidly darkening room, “Was it just the electricity that wasn’t paid, or is the gas off too?”

“Uhmmm...” Dante thought for a moment, “both, I think.”

Well, that put home cooking out of the question for another night.

“Hey, it’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?” Dante asked, mitigating any awkward silence that might have followed their exchange. “How about I show you the diner in town I always used to go to?”

Nero’s face told him that he was less than thrilled by the idea of going to what he no doubt thought was going to be yet another pizza joint, but the grumbling of his stomach betrayed how hungry he was.

“Don’t worry,” Dante reassured, “it won’t be pizza.”

True to his word, it was not. It also wasn’t anything Nero would have considered an actual meal, either, as Dante had quite obviously ordered for the two of them straight from the desserts menu – two strawberry sundaes, the ‘house specialty' as Dante had put it.

“So,” Nero asked over their ice cream, “what do you normally do when the power goes out?”

“Other than sit in the dark and wait for a customer?” Dante joked back. “What do you mean?”

“Like, about food.” Nero continued. “I mean, today was a special case. What about times when you can’t afford to come out and grab something to eat?”

The older man mused for a moment. “Well, there are a couple of places – like here – that have let me open up a tab in the past. Other than that? I'd just have to wait, I guess. One of the upsides of my uhh...” he looked around, mindful of the other occupants at the diner, “my 'mixed heritage'; means I can go without a few meals and not have any issues.”

Nero nodded, considering for the first time since arriving how he, too, hadn’t exactly been having regular meals since he arrived. Maybe their biology wasn’t so different – though he didn’t feel like pushing to test it out.

“And what about you, kid?” Dante asked back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “How was it putting food on the table for you and your lady?”

“Fine.” He replied, though one glance across the table told him that Dante wasn’t going to be satisfied with a one-word answer. Nero shrugged. “Devil hunting was always a necessary job, with the city being built on a literal Hell Gate and all. Being a Knight of the Order had good pay, and even after _they_ disbanded, my crew got paid as part of the city’s relief efforts. It wasn’t as much, but it was enough.”

That seemed to have fulfilled Dante’s curiosity. At the very least, he didn’t to push to ask any more about Nero’s time with the Holy Knights, for which he was thankful.

Having finished their sundaes, the two returned to the office. Nero bid Dante goodnight and ascended the steps to his room, while Dante sent him back a brief wave and placed a magazine over his face to get some shuteye of his own.

-

Morning came, heralded by the blaring music of the Devil May Cry jukebox.

Dante rose from his chair and stretched. There were worse ways to be woken up, he supposed.

“The power's back on then?” came Nero’s voice from the top of the stairs.

“Yep.” Dante acknowledged him as he half-danced his way across to the refrigerator. “And you know what that means.” He turned to face Nero, mozzarella and pepperoni slices in hand.

“Pizza?” the young man questioned with a sigh. “For breakfast?”

“ _Homemade_ pizza for breakfast.” Dante corrected him.

Nero watched Dante disappear into the kitchen with his arms crossed, weighing up his options. On the one hand, he could just leave Dante to it and continue working on sorting through the storage room. On the other, as funny as it might be watching Dante struggle through what could well be his first ever time cooking, he didn’t want to see the office go up in flames with the pizza...

“Hold up!” Nero called to the kitchen as he too crossed the office. Something told him Dante was going to need all the help he could get.

And maybe one more pizza wouldn’t hurt, before he gave them up for good. Especially if it was homemade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Looking back on the layout I gave the office, it’s a sort of hybrid between the offices of DMC3 and DMC4._
> 
> _The layout of the furniture and raised wooden flooring around the desk comes from DMC4, as well as the door by the bar the I've turned into the kitchen, but I've moved the door to the bathroom back to behind the desk where it was in DMC3 and the anime (because that’s where I like it being), shrank the size of the side room by the sofa and removed the door there so that it’s more of just a small alcove than an actual_


End file.
